It was traditional, not to say required, to be married before the stones. The people of the fields and drops of Little Boulding had kept to this tradition, not at all a requirement, since before anyone could remember. So of course it was expected that if they were to be married, even a goblin and a man ought to be married before the stones.
On this day, the happiest day, Gnarlas was trying to decide why the man wanted to marry her at all.
They had shared many adventures, but they had not been alone in them. Always there was Snickle the thief and Smudge the girl with all the answers (none of them ever right). There was Sir Lansalot, and that awful imp, Wallie, who was always in their provisions and a terrible biter.
But only one of them mattered.
The goblin turned. There Sergan was, a tall, thin man with limp brown hair and large eyes that were too often doubting. She had not realized that doubt was for her until recently, and still did not know that he wondered himself, not infrequently, why the goblin wanted to marry him at all.
When he saw her, there was no time for doubts. He was turning something in his hands.
“It’s a crown,” he said, very awkward. “You’re meant to wear it. I’m meant to wear one, too, but Snickle swears it was never a pair. Would you…?”
There was that familiar doubt. Gnarlas took the crown, a simple iron band. She put it on her arm.
“No, no, it goes…here, let me.”
Sergan took the band and placed it very gently on her head.
Their eyes met, wondering and no longer doubting. Sergan was bending towards her when the goblin turned away, breaking the spell.
“Did you lose something?” he asked.
The goblin muttered something in her mother tongue. Although her appearance was human, her pale gray-green skin looked very odd in a human gown, so unlike the wild style goblins usually wore. It was very unlike what they had to traveled in.
The goblin turned to him. She looked at him very determinedly, holding the limp daisy chain Smudge had given her.
“Your crown, chi-uiris,” she said.
Sergan bowed and she placed it on him. He straightened and her mouth twitched.
“Thank you, my queen,” said Sergan, holding himself like a noble even though the flowers were wilting at the edges.
When she kissed him there was no more doubt. He took her hand and their fingers clasped, glad to face the stones together. They certainly wouldn’t face them for anyone else.
Written in response to Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt. Check it out!